Dress And Tie
by LittleMissDementorsKiss
Summary: My first songfic, based on the wonderful song Dress and Tie by Darren Kriss and Charlene Kaye. Corny ending, but I hope you'll read and enjoy anyway! Amy/11


_In my version of series six, Rory never existed. And not like: he got sucked into that crack in the universe. No, it's more like: there has never been a character named Rory. I don't like him very much.  
>Note also that I never really watched Doctor Who adamantly until Matt Smith. My dad tried to get me to watch one of the old episodes (ark in space) I cracked up. You can see the freaking string used in the special effects! And apparently the 30<em>_th__ century will consist of technology that existed before I was born. It's silly. Suffice it to say that I stopped watching the old episodes sometime in the first half of the first part and I'm not very edumacated on the history of the show.  
>I own nothing. Anything pertaining to Doctor Who is property of BBC (as far as I know). The song is Dress and Tie by Darren Kriss and Charlene Kaye.<br>So, here goes my first ever songfic._

_**Every night I walked the streets  
>never dreaming what could happen<br>sad and so lonely  
>I saw in the mirror my reflection<br>staring back at me  
>I thought, will I ever find what I need?<strong>_

Amy stared down at the ground in front of her as she shuffled through the snows of Victorian New York City. It seemed she came back to this same place, this same time, whenever she felt alone. Something about the sharp, cold air, the children laughing as they skated on the lake in the park. It reminded her of the childhood she'd missed out on. Her aunt was at work all of the time, her parents weren't there, she was always either fending for herself at home or being analysed by one of the four psychiatrists her aunt had hired. And even if she had had the time to play, when you've been to four psychologists by age ten no one really wants to be your friend, especially when you _still_ talked about your imaginary friend.

The lack of companionship continued through her teens and into her adult life. She'd never found true friendship, let alone love. Sure there had been a few guys here and there, but there was never really any emotional connection.

And then the Doctor came back.

She still felt a bit guilty about the whole cricket bat incident, but he seemed to have forgiven—if not altogether forgotten—it. It had set a lot of her anger free as well. If she hadn't done it, who knows how far from his body his head would have ended up.

But now they were traipsing around the universe in the TARDIS. Just them—Amy, a madman, and his box.

And it was OK. She still lacked the much of the friendship and all of the love she'd craved for so long, but it was dulled with experience. She didn't mind so much anymore. It was only when she thought about it that she felt empty. She stopped at the edge of the icy lake and watched the little girls in their dark green and deep red Christmas dresses fly across the ice. Every once in a while, an older kid would throw a twirl in the mix, but mostly it was smooth lines of childhood fun. Other women, some younger than herself, watched their children play. They gossiped nonstop. Some things never change, and gossip was one of them. A young woman of eighteen or nineteen glided up beside her. She was obviously rich, dressed in the top of Victorian fashion with her tight corset and full, ornately patterned dress. She stooped down to kiss who appeared to be her young daughters forehead and allowed a maid to tie her shawl and lace her skates for her.

Amy's mother had never been there to kiss her forehead.

She looked down at her reflection in the ice. From photographs, she knew she had her mother's hair and eyes. She smiled faintly.

But then her smile faded. She'd never be with her mother.

She'd always be Just Amy

_**but I'll wear that dress if you wear the tie  
>and baby we'll dance through the night<br>'cause no one's got what we've got going  
>happiness never held on to me<br>until you helped me see  
>that together we're just better off<strong>_

Amy stepped back up into the blue box and grinned when she saw the Doctor. He had those ridiculous goggles on, the ones he wore when making repairs to the TARDIS, and his screwdriver clenched between his teeth as he used both hands to arrange pieces of the console.

"Ah, Amy. You're just in time. Can you lend me a hand here?"

"I have two of them." She said. "What do you need?"

"Just hold these two pieces together here." He instructed, taking her hands in his own and showing her how to hold the two bits of metal. His sonic screwdriver made that whirring noise she'd learned to appreciate, and he nodded.

"That's it. Thank you."

Amy smiled at him and let go.

"How is it out there?" The Doctor asked conversationally. "You look flushed."

"Well, it is freezing, and these clothes are heavy." She reasoned. She hated the maroon riding habit, but the Doctor had told her that she couldn't keep wearing 21st century street clothes if she were to keep coming back to the same time. He said that if people saw her enough, they'd start to recognise what she was wearing. So, rather than abandon her sanctuary, she chose to don the most comfortable attire she could find. And it was comfortable, just heavy. It was almost impossible to wear indoors without burning alive as well, and she'd never liked maroon very much.

"You know," The Doctor said "I haven't been out there with you for the past few times we've come. Would you care to show me around?"

"Take off those goggles and fix your hair." She said.

He grinned. He didn't like this era as much as Amy did and she knew it. Still, it was fun to be out there in the hustle and bustle of Christmas season together. He unbuckled the goggles in the back, smoothed down his gorgeous hair, and then grabbed his jacket.

"Where are we going?"

"You and I," Amy answered, "are going for a walk."

"A walk? That's all?"

"Walks are nice here." Amy explained shortly, and they walked through the doors of the TARDIS arm-in-arm.

"See, I told you bowties are cool." The Doctor said, pointing at a man with a black bowtie to match his ditto suit.

"_Were_ cool, Doctor. You realise that it's 1883, right?

The Doctor gave no reply. They continued walking, and soon came to a group of street musicians performing for spare change. They were good, too. The Doctor kept walking, but as he did so, he pulled Amy into a twirling dance.

They danced down the street, Amy giggling at the hilarious looks they were getting, the Doctor smiling at the sound of his companions giggle.

Amy hadn't had this much fun in a long time. And to think, it was all over in a few seconds when they passed the sounds of the music and began walking normally again. Still, the happiness she felt resonated for much longer than that.

Ever since she ran away with the Doctor, Amy's life had become ten times more difficult, ten times more frustrating, and ten times better.

_**oh my heart's been tried  
>time and again<br>always thought that it was me but  
>I see now just how wrong I was<br>no, I haven't known you for a lifetime  
>but somehow I've never been more sure that you're for me<br>baby please don't leave, just come and dance with me tonight**_

He loved the melodious sound of her laughter. He didn't hear it much, but when he did it never failed to make him smile. That was why he'd pulled her into that dance. In that five second dance, his day had been made.

And she knew it.

Why else would she continue to tempt him? She'd see beautiful things in shop windows; the owners were preparing for Christmas. Then, she'd point them out. He, of course, couldn't resist buying her the little golden music box that played jingle bells when wound up and the old-fashioned candy made right in front of them. Money wasn't an issue, of course, but spoiling her rotten might have been.

No, it wasn't, he realised. Amelia Pond could never be rotten.

He always called her Amelia in his head. It was his way of reminding himself that though she was a wonderful, beautiful, free-spirited woman now, she was indeed that same little girl who trembled at the sight of her bedroom wall.

It was his way of reminding himself that she was human, that she was born long after him and would die long before him.

He wished he could call her Amy in his mind. But he knew that if he did, he was a goner. There would be no turning back. He couldn't have that. She deserved someone like herself, who she could grow old with, who she could have healthy children with, who she could live a picket fence life with. That person was most certainly not him.

She needed to go home, back to that old house of hers, in order to do that, but somehow he couldn't bring himself to do that. Maybe if she were to be the one to suggest it, but until then he was going to dance with her, jest being merely a facade, and keep that memory. He'd never let it go.

_**don't be cruel to me  
>oh, I've wanted more<br>and I've been wrong before  
>so much learning to lose<br>but you're not a day too soon  
>so say you feel the same and<br>we'll never be lonely anymore**_

Back in the TARDIS, Amy arranged her brand new musical jewellery box on her bedside table. She was so grateful. She hadn't asked for it, she'd just pointed out its undeniable beauty.

And he'd bought it for her.

She wasn't complaining. She had always dreamed of a man giving her a nice gift. She didn't want flowers, they died. She didn't want jewellery that she was never going to wear. But a jewellery box was perfect. And it didn't' have to be for jewellery, anyway. It could hold anything.

After setting it at just the right angle, she left to find the Doctor. He was sitting in the library on the leather sofa. She sat down beside him and rested her head on his shoulder.

"What are you reading?" she asked.

"Gulliver's Travels" he said, holding up the book so she could see the cover. "I'm in Bromdingnag."

"Do Bromdingnag and Lilliput exist, Doctor?" Amy asked, temporarily getting sidetracked.

"Only within the confines of the imagination, unfortunately." He said. "And before you ask, Narnia's not a real place either."

"I came in here to thank you for your gift, Doctor." Amy remembered. "So thank you."

"You're very welcome."

She kicked of her shoes and curled into a ball on the sofa, leaning on him so she didn't fall. The proximity was overwhelming. He knew what he wanted, but he couldn't actually admit it. If he did, it would be even worse than thinking of her as Amy.

"I'm ready for bed." He said, and waited until she was properly seated before standing.

"Sweet dreams, Doctor. I love you." Amy said under her breath. He froze in the doorway, and then turned. She seemed to have been embarrassed by her declaration, seemed to want to take it back. She buried her head in her hands, hiding from his gaze.

"I love you too, Amy Pond." He said. "And I am never going to let you go."

She looked up. "Truly? But last time..."

"Last time was different. Remember that I didn't have long to adjust to the fact that you were no longer Amelia Pond, the little girl who waited outside all night. But I've had the time now. Now, I know that you've become a wonderful, beautiful, free-spirited woman" He explained, giving the speech he'd prepared for her ever since she'd saved the star whale, the very moment she'd won his heart.

Amy stood up. "Does this count as paedophilia?" she asked, jokingly.

"Don't remind me." He answered seriously. "I've been struggling wi—"

That was when Amy kissed him. It didn't last long, but was sweet and meaningful. It told of all the times she'd wanted him, all the times he'd wanted her.

They broke apart, and just stood in each other's arms for who knows how long.

"Yes, Amy Pond. I am most certainly never letting you go."

_Okeedokee, there it is.  
>Sorry about the emo, angst-ridden Amy at the beginning. I'm not sure what this says about my own personality, but I can never get through a fanfic without adding an emo, angst-ridden character. Sorry again. Please review. Like I said before, this is my first ever songfic, and ever since I first heard this song I've wanted to make a Doctor Who fic out of it. It's a great and really catchy song. You should look it up. And yes, I know it's a corny ending. I can be a realist with pretty much anything but romance. I should probably stop writing it, but what can I say. I'm a girl. I have no trouble killing characters when called for. I can make people clumsy, bumbling buffoons when called for. But I can never end a story without wrapping up the romance in pretty paper with a little bow on the top.<br>That's it.  
>Be well, live long, and read on,<br>-LitteMissDementorsKiss_


End file.
